The Underground Children
by Bmimemori
Summary: Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are sent on a mission to a planet whose secrets are deep and dirty. But when Obi-Wan thinks he's found a past love, will he be able to focus? The hardest lesson to learn is who you can trust, and who to leave in the past.
1. Wherein the Mission Is Assigned

**A/N: Okay, so I've had this story bouncing around in my head forever, and I finally had the time to write it out. However, I haven't seen the movies/read the books in a while, so it's entirely possible that I've made some mistakes. Feel free to point them out, if you feel so inclined. Just in case you didn't know, I'm not George Lucas, and therefore do not own any portion of the Star Wars industry. I am merely a poor college student. Suing me would be more trouble than it's worth. The song lyrics aren't mine, either. They belong to the oh-so-talented Sarah McLachlan. The song is called "I Will Remeber You". Anywho, let me know if you like it,**** hate it, want to see more, never want to see it again, whatever.**

**************

I'm so afraid to love you, more afraid to lose; Clinging to a pass that doesn't let me choose.

Once there was a darkness, a deep and endless night; It gave me everything it had, oh, it gave me light.

And I will remember you; will you remember me? Don't let your life pass you by. Weep not for the memories.

Obi-Wan Kenobi tried to hold onto the image of the face before him, the copper hair and the bright green eyes, but just as the song faded as the stereo system finished the track, so the memory of her face also disappeared.

"Cerasi," he whispered, eyes still closed. The memory that suddenly replaced that of her smiling eyes was the last memory he had of the girl he'd thought himself in love with—her death in his arms. The guilt and the shame of not being able to save her, the only person he would ever have had the chance to love, was just as strong now, five years later, as it had been then.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon called from the doorway, bringing the younger man back to the present, where he was once again a Jedi. "The Council wishes to see us."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said obediently, leaving his meditative position and following the Master Jedi into the hallway.

From another hallway to Obi-Wan's left, bright green and copper flashed. He turned his head quickly, but just as every other time, it was just another apprentice, whose hair and eyes were both more dull than Cerasi's had been.

"You seem distracted, Padawan. Is everything alright?" Qui-Gon queried.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

Obi-Wan was saved from having to answer that question by their arrival at and the subsequent opening of the doors to the Council Chamber. Master and Padawan entered the room and bowed respectfully to the twelve masters seated around the room.

Master Adi-Gallia leaned forward and steepled her fingers under her chin. "Something interesting has popped up," she stated. "We would like you to view this holo-clip we received." She nodded towards the center of the room just as an image began to form there.

The holo-clip was of poor quality, grainy and snowy from decay. The clip started off showing a room full of children, filthy, clothed in rags, many crying. Some were settled in the laps of older youths, being comforted, bandaged, and fed meager rations. The holo-recorder panned across the room, showing many saddening images of the dejected children and their young caretakers. The wardens were obviously not adults, yet they were just as obviously attempting to hide their own fears and worries in order to properly soothe and care for their charges. The last image finally froze in place: it was a picture of a brunette teenager, beautiful despite the dirt smeared into her skin and hair. She was draped with many children of all ages. One particular young girl was settled comfortably in her lap, sucking on a grubby thumb. The child had one leg that was bandaged and twice the size of the other. She suddenly raised her lowered eyes, just at the end, staring straight into the recorder. Obi-Wan was rooted in place, unable to move under the force of that stare…and the unexpected, overwhelming wave of emotion that accompanied it.

"Padawan? Obi-Wan, what is it?" he vaguely heard Qui-Gon ask. He couldn't answer. He could do nothing but stare into those big blue eyes…

The recording snapped off, and Obi-Wan blinked fiercely at the harsh loss of that gaze.

"Obi-Wan?" That was Master Yoda. One did not ignore him, no matter the circumstances.

"Begging your pardon, masters," he glanced to Qui-Gon, hoping to convey that he had meant no disrespect. "The little girl at the end, the one with the bandaged leg…"

"Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"I got something from her. Something powerful. I was feeling her emotions. Her sorrow, her pain, her hunger, her fear." He looked up, straight into Mace Windu's eyes. "Is that possible?" He looked around the room, meeting the eyes of every master in turn, his own included, finally settling on Master Yoda. Each face showed disbelief and confusion. "Masters?"

There was only silence.

"You're sure, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked softly from behind.

Obi-Wan turned. Did his master not trust him? But no, Qui-Gon just wanted him to be sure it had come from the little girl, to affirm as much for the Council.

"Yes, Master, I am sure."

"Very strange, all this is," Master Yoda said in his typical disjointed speech.

"There was a text file on the device that included this clip," Ki-Adi Mundi added. "We were only able to translate it roughly, but this appears to be a call-to-arms, a public service announcement to mobilize the people. It mentions that the entire future generation is at risk of being destroyed."

Master Windu leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "We are sending you to this planet, Terrae The Council has previously heard from this planet, but this evidence is something we have not yet seen. Terrae has seemed peaceful and prosperous. We had no reason to suspect such disarray. Your mission will be to investigate and report back. Past that…well, we're looking to you to use your discretions as to the best course of action. With our approval, of course."

"Of course, Masters."

"May the Force be with you."

"And you as well, Masters."

Obi-Wan bowed along with his master, and then the two were off, once again on a rescue mission.


	2. Wherein New Friends Are Made

**A/N: I think I like this chapter, but seeing as it's 3am, maybe it's not all that great after all. The culture references are intentional (and will be explained later). **

**I feel I should add a small warning here, based on the reviews I have recieved so far (thanks for those, by the way; it was great to know you liked this so far): this is probably not heading in the direction you think it is. That being said, I hope you will continue to read this anyway. I'm rather fond of the ending, and I think you will be, too. But then, I could just be partial because I came up with it. Either way, lemme know what you think?**

**************

Obi-Wan sat silently across from his master. The two were on the last leg of their journey to the small, remote planet of Terrae. The only transport that they could find to take them there was through a run-down shuttle port in Terrae's neighboring system, and that had even been a bit of a struggle. This mission was certainly not making itself easy.

What, now he personified missions, as if they did these things all on their own? Maybe he was going crazy. Perhaps it would be a good idea to—Obi-Wan blinked.

A young woman was suddenly in the seat with Qui-Gon, slidding her arm through his and leaning forward conspiratorily. In his mind he could feel through his bond with Gui-Gon that the older man was about to tell her they did not require an escort service, but before the worlds could be said, the two men found themselves leaning forward to engage in a deep conversation with their long time friend.

"By the stars, did you see the chandelier at the Borrisson mansion?" the woman asked. "It was made of real crystal!"

"It was the most beautiful thing in the room," Obi-Wan heard himself say,"aside from you in that red gown, of course." The woman's cheeks flushed to the color of the dress she had worn to the party last night.

Qui-Gon chuckled. "He's right, you know."

"Oh, you two are just biased.

Obi-Wan's eyes barely flickered to the intimidating-looking, uniformed men stomping by, searching the rows.

"They had some of the most marvelous dishes, too," Qui-Gon observed, his eyes, too, returning to the brunette's face.

"The strawberries were my favorite," she added.

Obi-Wan laughed. "Of course they were! They were red to match your dress!" Qui-Gon and the brunette joined in his merriment. The unis shot them a look as they passed and exited the transport.

The woman's laughter trailed off as she watched the deck shrink beneath them. "Thank you," she whispered to them, standing, but they barely heard her. Who were the Borrissons? Obi-Wan thought, and why had he brought up a red gown? He'd been on another transport last night…

Qui-Gon recovered faster than his Padawan, and caught the woman's wrist before she could move away. "I've seen you before," he said softly. "No, you haven't. I'm so sorry to intrude—"

"Yes, actually." Qui-Gon pulled out the data-pad with the vid-clip, frozen on the last image.

Obi-Wan's eyes flicked back and forth between the stilled screen and the woman's face. She was a few years older now, but it was definitely her.

The brunette sank slowly back into the seat. "Who are you? And where did you get that?" she demanded in a whisper, eyes wary.

"How did you trick us into thinking we were old friends?" Qui-Gon countered.

Her eyebrows dipped in confusion. "I didn't. I merely sent you a suggestion, asking you to play along, lend me some cover."

"Then why did I—" Obi-Wan started.

"You made all that up on your own. Thanks for that, by the way, made it more believable. Now, I ask again, who the hell are you?"

"I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my Padawan learner, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Piercing green eyes darkened dangerously. "Jedi? As in, the 'keepers of peace and the bringers of justice'?" Her tone made the praise into an insult. "Where the hell were you five years ago, when we were requesting teams every single day? When we wanted you here, needed you here? When we were struggling to stay alive? Before we had systems in place to try and end all this? To fix everything? We don't need you anymore. You'll just screw it all up. Go home to your cozy little palace where you have more than enough to eat and children don't have their fingers cut off if they're found by the police." She left the compartment quickly, leaving two speechless Jedi behind her.

"Obi-Wan, go keep an eye on her, but don't let her know you're following her. I'm going to contact the council and see if I can get recordings of those requests."

"Yes, Master." He left silently.

**********

The curtain of mahogany hair hid her matching eyes, but Obi-Wan was rather sure that they were still studying the book (an honest-to-the-Force, leather-bound, paper book) before her with the same intensity they had been for the past hour. Obi-Wan had sneaked in close to see what was on the page, but the information didn't look that hard. Indeed, it was a children's book. So what was she looking for? How could—

"Your shadow sucks at covert surveillance, by the way. You two plan on actually approaching me, or are you going to pretend to spy on me the whole trip?"

Obi-Wan jumped, more from the voice than his master's hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Had he not been inconspicuous, then?

I don't know, Padawan. Maybe she's just very perceptive.

I'm sorry, Master. I tried to do what you said and keep an eye on her—

Dude, _she_ can frikkin' _hear_ you. Didn't your mother teach you it's rude to talk about people?

Both men's heads snapped up in surprise.

"How did you do that?" Qui-Gon demanded.

"Do what? Hear your shouting match? Not really that hard. They probably heard you in the cockpit."

"We were speaking telepathically."

Her eyes flitted from side to side, as if trying to visually find his point. "Yeah. And?"

"Through a special bond. With the Force."

"Hate to break it to ya, buddy, but whatever this 'force' of yours is, you'd better get a new physics tutor, cuz," she leaned forward and finished in a whisper, "your current connection isn't very secure." With that, she turned back to her book.

"No, it's not physics, it's—"

"Yeah, whatev." She didn't even look up.

Qui-Gon glanced at his apprentice, obviously taken aback by the woman's indifference. Resolutely, he sat down next to her. "Here's the thing: we suspect that there is a rather large problem on your planet, but we aren't entirely sure what it is. Something tells me that you could provide us invaluable assistance in our mission, and it seems to me like you need the help."

She closed the book on her finger. "See, that's the problem with you Jedi. You sit in that big, cushy temple, not knowing what a big, scary universe it is out there, assuming that you can swoop in and 'fix' everything that's not really broken, all the while ignoring the things that truly are. Not everyone wants to aid in swelling your heads. My planet has been messed up since before I was born, and I know for a fact we have been asking for Jedi intervention since even before things got as bad as they are. You people have yet to respond. Why am I supposed to trust you now?"

Qui-Gon had the sense to remain silent, head slightly bowed, for a moment to allow her passionate tirade to ring in the air. "I spoke with the Jedi council," he finally began softly. "They were able to transmit to me recordings of all previous requests from your planet. You are absolutely right, there are quite a number of them. I was also given the mission reports and official logs of the Jedi team that was sent to your planet ten years ago, and once again five years ago. Both teams were unable to find any evidence of what they had been told was occurring."

"These things do happen when you liaise with the oppressors, and not the oppressed."

"Then it is a good thing that we are speaking with you this time, isn't it?"

A mistrustful "hmph" was his only reply as she settled back in her seat, returning her attention to the book.

Qui-Gon must have taken that as a win, for he leaned back with a small smile, and motioned for Obi-Wan to take a seat opposite them.

As he did so, the woman sighed impatiently and closed the book. As she reached for her bag, Qui-Gon took the opportunity to question her.

"How is it that you overheard my telepathic conversation with my apprentice?" he asked. "Are you Force-sensitive?"

Her hand stopped searching in her bag and she gave him an odd look. "Uh, yeah, you give me a good shove, I'll fall over. Duh." She rolled her eyes.

"No, not that kind of force…"

"Oh, your whole 'not physics' thing. Yeah, whatever, _so_ not your biz."

Qui-Gon waved his hand in front of her face. "You wish to tell me about your telepathy."

Obi-Wan darted a look at his master to make sure he hadn't sprouted another head while Obi-Wan had been studying the woman's reactions.

"Seriously? That supposed to work? Cuz if so, I think you forgot your pixie dust, Tinkerbell."

"Who is Tinkerbell?" Obi-Wan couldn't stop himself from asking.

"She's—" the woman sighed and shook her head. "Never mind. Look, I could hear you. Let's leave it at that, cuz I really don't trust you right now, 'kay? 'Kay, thanks."

She pulled her hand out an ancient style magazine. Curious, Obi-Wan tilted his head to look at the cover.

"Cerasi!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening.

Two pairs of eyes snapped to his face. "No, actually, it's Kysi. You know, in case you wanted to use it, stop calling me 'the woman'. And definitely don't call me 'Cerasi'. Ever." Even had her words not told them, there was something in her tone that would have alerted the men that this was not the first time she had heard the name, and that she had not taken kindly to it.

"No, on the cover," Obi-Wan explained, pointing to the picture. "I once knew her…" Though suddenly, taking another look at the picture, he wasn't so sure of that. The woman looked almost exactly like Cerasi would at this point, had she lived, though this woman's hair was more golden than his once-love's had been, a strawberry-blonde color. That hair was swept up into an elegant bun and was adorned with jeweled head piece. She was wearing a sparkling silver gown that attached to one bejeweled finger and swept down past her feet. She was seated in an elegant, haughty posture, nose high, glittering eyelids lowered. Her cheekbones, which arched in the exact same way as Cerasi's had, were delicately powdered to a pale porcelain perfection, and her cheeks were rouged just so.

Kysi turned the cover toward herself. "You know Princess Mykaela Kennaleighsah Jade Chloena Copperfield du Pont? I find that hard to believe. You don't rank high enough to associate with the likes of her."

"No. No, I don't know her. She just…looks like someone I used to know."

"She does look familiar to me, however," Qui-Gon interjected, before his Padawan could delve further into misery. He flipped through files on his dadapad and came to one he had just recently viewed. The three of them watched as a five-year younger version of the woman on the magazine cover regaled the Jedi council with a tale of misery, which was, she claimed, instigated by her father, King Midas IV. The young princess was thanked kindly for her courage and apprised that the Jedi would look into the matter.

"Ah, yes, the princess's last act, before she turned herself over to her father's will."

"What do you mean?" Qui-Gon asked.

Kysi looked around them out of the corners of her eyes. "This is not the place for such tales," she said softly. "Perhaps later. Of course, that is contingent on you convincing me I can trust you." Piercing brown eyes searched wise blue ones.

"You are rather mistrustful for one so young," Qui-Gon observed.

Those eyes suddenly looked weary and way older than the face surrounding them. "Youth does not preclude the type of experience that ages the soul," Kysi whispered.


	3. Wherein Lives Are Nearly Lost

**I don't like the way this turned out, really, but...here it is! Let me know whatcha think!**

Obi-Wan was pulled from his meditation by something smacking him in the face.

"Put those on," Kysi ordered.

He looked down to see that she had thrown a bundle of clothing at him. There was a similar bundle in his master's hands.

"Where did you get these?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Borrowed them from a friend." She pulled her own set of clothes out of her bad, then stopped when she realized neither man had moved. "Let's go! We only have five minutes 'til we land, and you can't get off looking like that!"

"Why not?"

"Because as off-world dignitaries, you will be expected to be a guest of the king. I don't have the time to wait for you, especially since you still have to prove I can trust you, and you won't find me again if we split up."

"There are only a handful of populated areas on your planet."

"It's still a big planet." She pulled off her dress and the two men looked away hurriedly to change their own clothes.

There was a chuckle behind them. "You Jedi are so predictable…"

"I'm sorry?" Qui-Gon asked politely.

"I wasn't about to strip in front of you. I have clothes on underneath."

Neither Jedi was sure what to say to that, so Qui-Gon changed the subject. "Where are we headed?"

"Once we disembark, we have a job to do, some errands to run, things to pick up. You know. Pick up some eggs on our way home."

'"Pick up eggs" indeed,' Obi-Wan thought bitterly a half hour later. He was dressed in a formal suit, the kind he had seen the businessmen on this planet wearing on their way to work. The tight collar, cinched with a 'tie', as Kysi had called it, felt like it was choking him compared to his loose Jedi robes.

"What is this place?" he asked, trying to distract himself.

Kysi ran a plasteel card along her bicep, then through the card reader in front of her, and the locked doors sprang open.

"Here's the deal," she said quietly, ignoring his question. "There are some very rich people on this planet. They have more money than they need. What I do is convince them to invest that money in our cause. Some of them even know what that cause is."

"So you lie, and you swindle money from the rich."

She made a face. "'Lie' and 'swindle' are such harsh words…"

Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow. "So you _don't_ lie and swindle."

"No, that's exactly what I do. They're just harsh words, that's all."

Was she always going to catch them off-guard like that?

"Ah, Ms. Grayson!"

"Your Grace, thank you for honoring us with your presence," Kysi said with a contrived accent. She took the hand of a rotund, panting man and graciously allowed him to kiss it before covering it with his free hand. "These are my associates, Mr. Allen and Mr. White."

"My pleasure, my dear, gentlemen. I'm happy to be on the cutting edge of technology! You have such a high-tech laboratory!"

"Well, we are the leading company in security systems."

"Yes, indeed, my dear, you are!" Obi-Wan was distinctly uncomfortable with the way the nobleman was leering at Kysi, but she just smiled coyly and guided them toward the large window overlooking many scientists bowed over their work.

"Our researchers are hard at work developing a new technique, something that has never been tried before, but looks very promising. Unfortunately, government funding being what it is right now, they have no more money to spare for us right now."

"What is this technique, exactly?"

"Now, your Grace, you know I can't say anything!" She winked. He drooled. "I don't know much about it, and even if I did, the confidentiality agreement I signed would prevent me from telling you. However, I can say this." She leaned in conspiratorially. "You will never have to worry about a child stealing a crumb from your table ever again."

The corridor boomed with the large man's laughter.

"All we need to complete the project is some generous funding from interested parties such as yourself."

"Of course, of course! How does this number look?"

He typed something into his datapad and held it out for her to see.

"Well, it's only about a tenth of what the project will cost, but with other generous donations, I'm sure we'll be able to come up with the rest. In fact, the Dukes of Gelbrithshire and Sham Shui Po have both hinted that they would be willing to donate half between the two of them." She looked back to the studious lab techs.

The duke's eyes widened. "Let it not be said that I am not a generous man. I will go in for the other half."

"Just you, Your Grace? How very kind of you!"

He laughed at her boisterous praise. "I do what I can."

"Mr. White, you have the account information for His Grace?"

Obi-Wan nodded and held out his datapad.

The money transfer was a simple matter, and the duke was sent on his way with more grinning and coy glances from Kysi, til the man looked positively giddy.

"Mother, that was foul," she muttered.

"Just how much money did you convince him to give to your…'project'?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Enough." He wasn't satisfied. She pushed open a door with her shoulder, leading them into a utility closet. "Every mouth will be fed this week. And then some."

She hiked up her skirt and stepped into the open duct.

The two Jedi glanced at each other, confused, but followed. Qui-Gon barely fit through the opening, but once he did, he rather suddenly found himself deposited on a soft surface many meters below.

"How much, Kysi?"

The two men reacted in surprise. They had not felt another presence in the Force. Yet there was another woman, leaning against a wall, reaching for the pad Kysi handed toward her. The other woman's eyes widened and she whistled.

"How—"

"I told you to flirt with the old man."

"You didn't!"

"Trust me. I did." The look on Kysi's face was one of pure disgust, and the other woman chuckled as she typed some commands into the pad, then handed it back to Kysi. "You'll get these to Pompeii?"

"You betcha."

"Thanks."

"Mhm. And, um…" The woman glanced back at the two men.

"I sent a message to everyone saying I was bringing two strays."

"Yeah, I know, I got it."

"But?" Kysi prompted.

The woman looked at the Jedi a moment longer, then turned back to Kysi. "Amalia said she needed you to bring home milk and bacon, and to pick up some extra tenderizer."

Kysi grinned lopsidedly. "Don't I always?"

The woman remained solemn. "She also said no sweet rolls this time."

This elicited an eyeroll. "Yeah. Got it. Thanks. See you at Gimokodan."

"I'll be there." The woman disappeared silently.

"Alrighty, boys, let's go grocery shopping."

They did not go grocery shopping at all. In fact, they ended up at a shoe store. Obi-Wan wanted to ask how, exactly, Kysi planned on buying eggs at a shoe store, but a silent Force nudge from Qui-Gon kept him from doing so.

"Got my order in, Sammy?"

"Yes, ma'am. Been waitin' for ya since yesterday."

"Good, good." Kysi checked the contents of the bag she had been handed, then nodded and handed the man cash. "See you next time, Sammy."

"I'll be here."

Kysi handed the pack to Obi-Wan, looped one arm through his and the other through Qui-Gon's, and lead the way out of the small shop and onto the crowded street. Leaning close to his ear, she said, "We already got the eggs, Ben. We needed bacon and milk. Now that we have everything, we can go home."

They stepped rather suddenly into nothingness. Where the alley should have held more people and more shops, there was instead a barren wasteland covered by a thick layer of mist into which the landscape disappeared a short distance in front of them. Kysi dropped their arms and took the pack from Obi-Wan.

"Or, rather, I can go home. You can go on about your business. Though the king might not be too pleased with your impromptu visit. But, it is what it is, I guess. Good luck, gentlemen. You're gonna need it." With that, she turned and walked away.

"Excuse me," Qui-Gon tried.

She kept on walking.

"Kysi!" he demanded.

She stopped rather suddenly and turned to briskly close the distance between them. She drew herself up, and though the top of her head barely reached the older man's chin, she appeared to tower over him. "If you're going to take that tone with me, Jedi, I suggest you have a _damn_ good reason, and something with which to back it up."

A tense silence stretched between the two. There was a clear challenge laid before his Master, and Obi-Wan saw the options flit through Qui-Gon's mind as he debated his best course of action in response.

Just as the older man made his decision and opened his mouth, Kysi swore violently, though quietly, and pushed him back toward the crowded street. "Get out of here, Jedi."

She turned back to her original direction and sprinted away.

Obi-Wan stared open-mouthed after her. For once, his master fared no better, for a short time.

Of course, that never lasted. "Defensive stance, Padawan," Qui-Gon said tersely, activating his lightsaber and moving to cover Obi-Wan's back in one swift move.

There was little that he thought of consciously in battle anymore. Muscle memory and the Force took control in a fight, telling him how to move and where to aim. This time, however, one small thought wiggled its way into his brain: we will never survive this. There were at least twenty armed men surrounding them, and it sounded as if more were on the way. He and his master were hard-pressed to keep up with the hail storm of blaster fire they were already deflecting. Adding more opponents would only mean a sure victory for the opposing side.

An urgent squawk came over the radios attached to their opponents' hips. One man, a commander, Obi-Wan guessed, shouted for about half of the team and all reinforcements to relocate to the new emergency. Oh, good, that only left them…thirteen. Well. They might die from their injuries after they had vanquished their enemies, instead of at the hands of the living enemy. He liked that version of his death only slightly more.

A sudden impulse—was that a Force push?—saw Obi-Wan face down in the dirt, his master landing very nearly on top of him. No matter what it was, he found himself grateful to not be standing as an explosive sailed right through the spot where his head would have been.

The explosion was so quiet, the shout that followed nearly deafened him.

"Oy! Pretty boy!" a voice called.

Obi-Wan looked up to see five men still conscious, looking for the source of the voice.

It was Kysi. "Your mama give you that hair cut? It looks like you have a dead cat on your head."

"It's her!" called out 'pretty boy' to his comrades. Qui-Gon leapt back to his feet and intercepted two of them. Obi-Wan managed to engage another, leaving two for Kysi.

The remaining battle was decisively short, and the two men soon found themselves being hauled off in the direction Kysi had been headed. "Let's go, boys, up in the trees. It's not long before they realize that was a fake distress call," she whispered.

They made quick work of the climb up into trees they hadn't been able to see through the fog, and settled high in the treetops and watching the uniformed men organize a search of the forest floor. When they moved on past the hideout, Kysi threw one leg over the limb she sat on, wincing slightly.

"You're injured," Qui-Gon stated.

"Am not."

"Then why is your leg bleeding?"

She glared. "For the hell of it."

"Are you ever not sarcastic."

"Sure. When I'm sleeping."

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes and moved carefully toward her. "May I?"

She glared for a moment later, before looking away, which Qui-Gon took as permission. He rolled up the leg of her pants to just above the knee, and stared at the wound. "How did you run on this?" There on her calf was a rather large hole, partially cauterized from the heat of the blaster, partially torn open.

She barely spared him a glance. "Practice." It was clear she wasn't going to say anything more, so he simply accepted the med-kit from Obi-Wan and set to work patching the wound.


End file.
